Healer
by Alamrin
Summary: "Why do you heal me, woman?" he questioned. "I don't like seeing people hurt, even if they are not like me…" Physically she heals, but emotionally... would she be his downfall? R
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

**Chapter 1**

The image had imprinted itself on his brain like a mindless addiction.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that she saved his life every time she sat beside him with her palms raised against the two-pointed dome which covered his body. Perhaps it was because she was the only person who seemed to empathise with him as he was mercilessly punished by his own maker for trivial reasons. Perhaps it was simply his instinct to acknowledge a new and different power.

Perhaps it was the way that warm, golden light shimmered magnificently against her creamy skin, accenting her large grey eyes with a kindness he had never known …

Once again he found himself in a position he had grown accustomed to. His emerald eyes stared thoughtlessly at the worried wrinkle between her brows as she healed the wounds Aizen had previously inflicted.

Orihime did not know why Ulquiorra was punished, but she healed him anyway. Whether or not Aizen knew was not her concern. She had simply reached out to her silent jailer, sensing a deep, hollow emptiness inside of him and wanting to show him that the whole world was not as merciless as Aizen Sousuke.

Ulquiorra did not understand. This talk of souls becoming one, of hope, of love and of compassion was nonsense to him. He bore no such feeling, no such entity of emotion other than sheer obedience.

Why?

Why did he, of late, begin to feel… to feel? He felt within his chest a wrenching pain, a pain which only came when Aizen-sama's cold brown eyes bore down on him with complete contempt as he peeled his mangled, punished body from the ground. He felt a tingle of regenerating flesh whenever this woman's golden light touched his skin, wrapped its healing power around his body.

He felt a swell of undecided emotion whenever that very same woman looked at him with her eyes filled with mysterious warmth.

His gaze did not waver when her healing orb dissipated and she sat back on her heels with a satisfied exhale. She pressed her lips together in what would be an almost smile. Ulquiorra closed his eyes and sat up, but did not stand. Orihime rose and went to stand by her barred window, looking out at nothing, her eyes now aglitter with hope.

He expected she would be waiting for Kurosaki Ichigo.

"Why?"

She gasped as his deep voice rumbled through her body. She turned her head to face him, her body unmoving.

"Why do you heal me, woman?" he questioned, his back to her, his eyes still closed, but his senses awake.

"Do I not scare you?"

"…You are hurt," she whispered, but he heard. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes meeting hers. "You are hurt. I can heal. I don't like seeing people hurt, even if they are not like me…"

Her soft voice spoke words he could not understand.

He stood up, and walked towards her. She turned to face him, defiantly, bravely, but nervously. He felt every waver of reiatsu within this human, every flare and every dip. He knew her inside, every falter and fear.

But what he did not know was why she took pains to heal her captors.

He now stood in front of her, his reiatsu overpowering hers. He slowly raised his hand and placed it at her neck, slowly, treacherously wrapping his long, cold fingers around the warm tunnel. Her eyes widened; she was afraid now. He lifted her body slowly, painstakingly, off the ground. She was choking; her breath was short and muffled as she gagged against his strong hand. She clawed at his hard hands with her own weak ones, vainly trying to release his deathlike grip.

"Ridiculous," he muttered, amid her choked cries, "Your seeming interest in those who are your enemies, those who are stronger…they will only kill you, as will we… soon enough…"

With that, he dropped her, and she fell to the floor with a loud thud, in a crumpled heap. She gasped for breath, holding her aching throat and inhaling in large, noisy gulps, trying to fill her dry lungs with air. He stared coldly down at her tear-filled eyes, her heaving breasts and her dirty clothes surrounded by tufts of risen dust from her fall.

The image was not one he favoured. He would rather look at her in the warm glow of her healing orb…He closed his eyes, angered by the regards he sent forth to this slip of a human, this ridiculous trash of a girl who believed in hope and souls and compassion.

He was so ashamed and annoyed at his regards that instead of entering the room later that day, he left the warm meal and the clean change of clothing outside her door.

#####

"Did I not tell you that you are to go to Inoue's cell for today, Ulquiorra?"

Aizen sat lazily on what he called his throne, looking down at Ulquiorra with a treacherous sternness hidden terrifyingly behind a serene smile. "Hai, Aizen-sama," Ulquiorra answered, monotonic as always, "I simply stepped outside for a moment."

"Hn."

In a flash, Aizen was in front of him, his clenched fist making solid contact with the Cuatra's white cheek. Ulquiorra flew, hopeless, into the wall with a resounding crash.

The dust cleared to reveal the ugly bruise on the Espada's Hierro.

"Do as I say, and nothing else, Ulquiorra," Aizen muttered, the smile still evident on his face, "Or there will be greater consequences."

#####

Orihime did not have to turn around to see who was entering. There was only one reiatsu she knew that felt like lifeless energy.

He came in, calmly, silently, and sat on the edge of the bed, his back towards her, while she watched outside. It was their usual positions; they never talked except when he ordered her to eat, and she never healed him unless he came in the door staggering.

Today however, she felt curious. Maybe she was just listless, or maybe she held an unspoken connection with this Arrancar. She felt a higher-than-normal sense of surrender from the man. After their previous encounter she was afraid enough, but she couldn't help but widen the doors of her already open heart.

"U-Ulquiorra…san?"

Her soft murmur was almost inaudible, but his release form was not a bat for show. "You have never addressed me before, woman," he said, one eye darting to fix itself on her. "Is there something you seek?"

She said nothing, but slowly, tentatively began to approach him, walking in careful, soft treads until she stood behind him. He did not move, but she stared at him until he turned his head to fully watch her.

She gasped when she saw the blue-black blotch that shadowed over his cheek, at once releasing her Kesshun to form a mini version of the two-pointed orb just over the bruise. His eyes widened momentarily; her reaction to his bruise was as always: preliminary shock, then determination to heal, then the satisfied pressing of the lips as she finished, the receding of the blackness from his white cheek reflecting in her eyes.

It took a moment before he realized he had never been as close to her before as he was now.

Though her orb had disappeared, her hand remained, her slim fingers just barely brushing his cheek. His lips were parted and his eyes incredulous. She seemed meek but interested. She blinked once, twice, before she slowly rested her soft, warm palm on the cold hard plane of his cheek.

He blinked, then his green orbs darted to the side, watching what little of her hand he could see in his peripheral vision. He found himself tilting his head so that his cheek rested in her hand. He wondered at the comfort and the tantalizing tingle he felt as her hand curved beautifully against the contours of his face. He felt her caress him as her fingers pressed against his skin, her index just touching his skull piece.

Orihime wondered at this new found attraction she felt; Kurosaki-kun was the only one who ever made her feel this way…

She slowly raised her other hand, this one approaching his hair. Ulquiorra's eyes fluttered, then closed as her fingers laced themselves within his hair, fleeting and feathery.

He did not understand what he was doing. He felt suspended in an alter universe. He felt he had no control over his muscles, his … emotions. He did not know why he was letting her touch him like this. He could not fathom how her hands made him feel. The Cuatra Espada would have already sliced her hand off for even daring to reach for him. The Cuatra would have lifted her mercilessly by the hair and thrown her through the wall. The Espada would point his long, accusing finger at her before sending a glowing green cero right between her eyes filled with despair…

The Cuatra Espada would treat her with the same merciless, unnecessary abuse that Aizen showed every day…

Ulquiorra's eyes flew open and he rose with a swift movement, paying no heed to her startled gasp and her small tumble as he sent her off balance. She fell softly on her buttocks before his feet, looking up at him with a disturbed questioning look.

Ulquiorra looked down at the woman and she saw it – the flash of alarm within his emerald eyes before he calmed himself and redeemed his empty look. Roughly, he reached down and grabbed her shoulders, lifting her off the ground and flinging her onto the bed, brusquely.

She stared after him as he calmly left the room, but did not fail to notice with great fear the green flames which enveloped his clenched fists.

What she did not know, was that she had left his insides dancing with even more heat and fervor than those very flames…

#####

Idk what inspired this, but this will only have a couple of chapters. I rather winged this one, so slight burning is understandable. R&R!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"How disappointing."

Aizen closed the door, leaving behind an empty desert of white sand and fruitless searching. He had been hoping to find more, stronger Hollow to fortify his Arrancar army, but he had done nothing but waste his time. Perturbed and irritable, he seated himself on his makeshift throne. He sharply turned his ear to the sound of echoing footsteps approaching.

Ulquiorra approached the throne with careful, tentative steps. He bore bad news, and his mind sank deeper into its abyss of surrender as he noted Aizen's equally bad mood. "Aizen-sama," he murmured as he stood erect in front of his maker. "It appears the woman has taken a fever. Surely the coldness of Hueco Mundo is far too harsh for such a meagre being. I request advice as to what to do."

Aizen closed his eyes, and a smile Ulquiorra knew only too well formed slowly on the ex-Shinigami's face. "Ulquiorra," Aizen said, softly, but his authoritative tone bounced off the walls of his palace. "Draw your sword."

Ulquiorra was slightly startled at the request, but did as he was told. He slowly drew his blade and held it slackly in his bone-white hand, wondering what Aizen would be up to.

He gasped when his maker appeared in a flash before him, his sword pressing heavily unto Ulquiorra's, his smile now gone completely. Ulquiorra had never seen such an angered look on Aizen's face before, and he was shocked. Aizen took a dishonourable advantage of the shock in his angered state, sinking his white-clad foot into the Espada's stomach. Ulquiorra staggered backwards, taking an unsteady ready stance as he prepared to duel Aizen, the man who had created him, and so, one of the few who could possibly kill him…

#####

Ulquiorra was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He happened to be taking charge of the woman, and did not know what to do about her silly illness. He had simply stepped into Aizen's anger, and now he was being wheeled to Orihime's room to be healed again, the way she always healed him…

He did not know when he arrived into her room, but it seemed long, painful hours before he saw a blurred version of her worried face hovering over his half-conscious, bloodied body. His heavy eyelids drooped uncontrollably, and he just barely caught a glimpse of the familiar golden orb before all consciousness was lost.

#####

Orihime stifled an exhausted yawn as she leaned over the bloody Espada, her palms just barely holding themselves up above him. She felt horrible. The cold drafts of Hueco Mundo had done nothing but give her a harsh fever, and not even Ulquiorra seemed to know what to do.

Ulquiorra…

She stared down at the unconscious face, fascinated. It was the first time she had seen the Espada without the cold, cutting-edge expression he always wore. His eyes were closed but relaxed, his lips slightly parted and his hair fell in graceful strands around his eyes and down the side of his face, ebony black against bone white.

He seemed at ease…

She did not care how sick or weak she felt, it was her job to heal this … this man. She had felt it from the first time she formed the orb over him. She was his healer, and he needed her every time he suffered Aizen's wrath.

She could feel his muted curiosity towards her, and in her own unique way she understood that his verbal attacks on her nature as a human was his shield, his shroud for which he expressed that curiosity. And she would be lying if she said she was not curious about him.

Why did he serve a man who beat him up after? What was his purpose as an Arrancar? Did he feel anything inside? Did he give in to what he might feel? She knew he was part Hollow, but he seemed emptier than all the rest; indeed, he was far less expressive than his feral comrade, whose bold blue hair paled in comparison to the bold sexual advances he had laid on her in the past. She had no doubt that were it not for Aizen's word and Ulquiorra's watch, the one known as Grimmjow would have forced himself on her …

It went to show that these Arrancar did have some sense of feeling or at least of physical attribute. She herself was innocent in terms of physical – or rather sexual – connotations, but she could not deny the tingling feeling she had felt when her fingers sunk deeper into the Espada's surprisingly soft hair.

She looked down at him and realized that his wounds were closed, that the blood she now saw lay on the surface of newly healed skin. She blinked, and the orb disappeared. She took a cloth from the tray that a servant Arrancar had brought while wheeling Ulquiorra into her cell. She carefully sopped the ruby liquid off his beautiful ivory skin. It was a difference to Kurosaki-kun's light but attractive tan, but she liked it anyway.

A dusting of pink flickered across her cheeks as her hands for the first time touched a man's chest, admiring the hard muscle through the cloth. He had been ridded of his tunic and lay before her a magnificent ivory statue… save for the round blackness at his throat and the gothic four imprinted on his left pectoral.

A sudden thought struck her, and nervously she ordered her Kesshun to form a small healing orb over his Hollow hole. She knew every Hollow had one, and since the incident with her brother so long ago, she would always wonder what would happen if the hole was plugged, or healed…

Her brows furrowed in concentration as her hands hovered over the orb, willing it to fill his body with warmth, hope, anything to replace his emptiness.

Suddenly, his eyes opened in a split second, and she gasped when in a flash his arm reached up to her hand, shattering her orb and instilling a horrifying fear within her. Without so much as a grunt, he pushed her arms away and her body with it; Orihime flew to the floor with a loud thud from the force of his push, her already aching muscles making painful contact with the cold floor.

By the time she had peeled herself off the floor and flung the orange mass of hair out of her eyes, he had disappeared.

#####

Ulquiorra opened his eyes, looking up at the flawless ceiling that could have belonged to any cell, but that he recognized as his. Slowly everything began to dawn on him. His eyes darted to the blocks of moonlight lying on his floor through the bars of his window. He felt one of his hands on his chest.

His healed chest.

He sat up slowly, noting his lack of attire, and smoothed his hand down his torso. Horrifying images of Aizen's smirking face and his relentless blade tearing his skin apart filled his mind, followed by the even glow of the woman's power, followed by the terror in her grey-glitter eyes when he pushed her away…

He shook the twinge of guilt out of his system. He was the Espada of emptiness after all; he was not permitted to harbour anything that would dwindle the very inspiration of his power.

When he entered her room a while later, she was lying on her bed, one hand over her eyes, and her breathing was laboured. She seemed to be even sicker than he had left her. He supposed her healing power had exhausted her. Again, he wondered why she healed him with such fervour.

It was only when he came closer, the servant Arrancar reeling the medicine cart behind him, that he could fully comprehend her exhaustion. Her eyes were barely open, and he could feel heat resonate from her skin. Her fever had skyrocketed.

After sending the servant away, the Cuatra sat on the edge of the bed next to her, the cart at his side. "You must get up, woman," he muttered, monotonic. "Aizen-sama has requested that you consume this hot substance. You must then take medicine, as per his orders."

He placed everything in her lap as she sat up. She looked down at what she supposed was soup, or something like it, in the silver bowl he set before her, as well as a glass of some murky beverage and two small capsules.

"Why are you helping me, Ulquiorra-san?" she questioned softly, picking up the spoon he had laid beside her. She dipped it in the hot liquid and raised it to her lips; rather brothy but not very tasteful, she decided. However, the heat of it did sooth her insides.

"I am simply following orders," he stated plainly, "I do not know of this illness you call fever. I am doing what Aizen-sama has told me to do, for your health. He needs you to be well to suit his purposes."

It was only after she finished her meal and taken her medicine that she ventured to speak.

"Ulquiorra-san," she whispered. He stood up, his back facing her, but paused. "What is it, woman?"

"I tried to heal you…"

"You ventured to change me, woman," he said sharply, his voice betraying his anger by a slight bit. "You have healed me before, but I have never asked you to. I bear you no favors and will not have you try to make me something other than what I am: an Arrancar. Remember that I am your superior, woman, and do not ever seek to seal my identification as a Hollow again."

"I only want to understand you," she said softly, her large, shimmering eyes pleading silently with him.

Like metal to a magnet, his eyes attached themselves to hers. He turned his body to face her, and she stood up. She had to look up into his eyes, though not very far, and there she saw nothing. He was empty of emotion, empty of feeling. She felt sorry for him.

Without knowing what she was doing, she reached up and touched his chest. He stood unmoving, but also seemed unaffected. Again, he let her touch him against his will. He did not know why, but her warm touch seemed something he had recently begun to think about more often than not, and every time she touched him, he began to feel, more and more, little by little.

He knew he should not be curious about this woman, but yet… he seemed unable to prevent himself.

He, Ulquiorra, was being controlled by the sensations brought on by another being… a being who was not Aizen-sama.

Physically, she healed his wounds, but on the inside … Ulquiorra felt even more helpless…

#####

The improvement of my writing thrives on your words! Please review. I need to know if my direction is the right one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

_**Chapter 3**_

Orihime's heart raced within her chest as she stared at the thin sliver of light with half-lidded eyes. She was anxious and frightened, but a surge of excited adrenaline coursed through her veins as she slowly opened her eyes and rose from her cot.

The servant Arrancar had thought she was asleep when he left. And now, whether it was by nonchalance or sheer carelessness, he had left the door to her cell open just a crack.

The light falling in a sharp spear from the hallway to her room seemed to beckon childishly to her. If she could just get out and find Kurosaki-kun…

She must be patient.

She waited for quite a while, trying to average when the servant Arrancar would be out of sight. She could not risk someone coming to close the door, but she also cold not risk getting caught. She knew Aizen needed her, but that didn't mean he couldn't punish her.

Just like he punished Ulquiorra-san…

An image of the cold green eyes flashed in her mind, and her heart swelled with emotion. No doubt her disappearance would mean bad things for him… But she could not continue to think about her enemy when the man she loved was risking his life to save hers.

Why had her mind run across the Espada in the first place? Her escape was to help Ichigo!

Silently, carefully, she walked up to the door of her abode, even though she knew no one could see her. She placed the palms of her hands against the cold steel of the door, straining her ears for echoing footsteps.

She refused to tell herself just whose footsteps she listened for.

Then she took a deep breath, and pulled. It was difficult, and her weak human arms strained to their very utmost, but she managed to open the portal just a small crack more.

It was all she needed.

She quietly slipped through the crack and, light as a feather on her feet, she flittered down the hallway.

#####

"At any rate, it is evident that the Substitute Shinigami and his friends are on their way here," Aizen continued, looking down the table at all his high ranked Espada.

"What's the big idea? Just let me strangle the orange chipmunk," Grimmjaw spat out, leaning back in his chair and picking up his stone cup; who knows what was in it, for Aizen was not in the mood for interruptive comments. He greatly disliked when his Espada meetings were not taken seriously.

"Grimmjaw, I don't have time for these frivolous desires of yours," Aizen said with his signature smile which did poorly at masking his cruel intent. "The Substitute is not to be underestimated. He is stronger than you think. With the right tools, perhaps we can harness his power… Nevertheless, we must devise a plan for Kurosaki Ichigo."

#####

Inoue gasped.

_Kurosaki-kun…!_

She knew the voice by the sickly twist to her stomach. Aizen.

She had just heard him say Kurosaki-kun's name, she was sure of it. She turned her head to the wall right next to her face. She had been walking against the walls so that she could peek around the corners.

To her utter shock, disbelief and fear, she was standing right next to a double door, between which there was a tiny crease.

She was frightened, knowing the voice she just heard, but only one thing was echoing through her mind.

_They're talking about Kurosaki-kun. Maybe I can find something out to help!_

Firmly making up her mind, she lay tentative palms against the doors and placed her ear as close to the crease as possible, straining her hearing to pick up whatever she could…

#####

"My point is that the woman must be protected from him." His brown eyes settled themselves against raven hair. Ulquiorra looked up but did not meet Aizen's eyes. "She has been taken care of, Aizen-sama."

"Is she now?" Aizen commented, one brow lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps you can tell me where she is now."

Ulquiorra then turned his eyes to Aizen's, feeling strangely challenged by the seemingly innocent question. He detected the familiar glow of authority in the former Shinigami's eyes and knew that something was not right. However, he was obligated to provide an answer or suffer consequences.

"She is currently in her quarters, Aizen-sama," he answered, seemingly confident, though he himself knew otherwise. "It has been brought to my knowledge that she has had her meal and is asleep at the moment."

Aizen closed his eyes and tilted his head down a bit in evident thought. The smirk on his face widened visibly, and Ulquiorra found himself widening his eyes in shock as Aizen reached for his zanpakutou.

Surely he had done nothing wrong, Ulquiorra thought, but more importantly, surely he was not going to engage in combat in front of everyone!

In a split second, with one graceful flick of the wrist, Ulquiorra saw the silver blade flash before his eyes as Aizen flung the sword, not towards him but down the table, flying towards the door.

Aizen's brown eyes opened, shimmering with sadistic victory as the blade slipped deftly through the crease between the doors.

Orihime gasped as the cold metal swished directly below her chin, slicing off a snippet of her flaming hair. She froze; her terror bloomed from the knowledge that he had not at all missed his shot, but had flung the sword with malicious intent.

Ulquiorra whipped his head towards the door, his shock only evident in the wideness of his eyes. He had not at all sensed the woman's reiatsu… But now he did, her reiatsu flared in uncontrollable anxiety as she stood rooted to the spot behind the door, her eyes opened to their very widest, her lips parted and her boy rigid with fear.

Aizen shunpoed to the door, pushing one side open and stepping out into the hallway. "Right this way, Inoue," Aizen spoke in a smooth-as-silk voice laced with fake sincerity. "You seem rather interested in our meeting. Allow me to show you first hand what it is like."

He took her hand in his and gently tugged, but his grip on her fingers was all too autocratic. Still shaking with terror, she rigidly straightened and followed the man into the room, where she was met with the gazes of 10 Espada, some surprised, some amused, some nonchalant … and one with an emotion she now recognized as chagrin reflected only to her in the green mirrors… She knew what he was thinking as he pressed his fingers against the table in an attempt to stop his hands from forming into fists. She could see him asking her, "What have you done, woman?"

"This meeting has now met its end," Aizen said as he took his place at the head of the table, the terrified young woman at his side. "Espada, return to your business. Ulquiorra, you are to remain here."

The other Espada shuffled out with no further comment, leaving Ulquiorra, Aizen and Orihime in the room. Aizen turned to the woman, placing a cold hand upon her cheek. She flinched slightly, but did not object. She felt Ulquiorra's eyes still upon her, heavy and accusing. Her heart twisted in her chest.

"Orihime," Aizen began, in the same voice of eerie gentleness, "Since you seem so interested in what occurs between the Espada and myself, please, remain here, and observe."

At that moment, he disappeared from in front of her and reappeared behind Ulquiorra, who froze in shock as the slim, white clothed arm closed around his neck. For the first time since she came to Hueco Mundo, she saw a grin dawn upon Aizen's face.

It was something she would not wish for anyone ever to have seen. The malice piercing through her from his eyes was enough to make her cower in a corner. She knew what would happen next, and so did Ulquiorra. She looked at the Espada standing there with those wide eyes filled with expectancy; he waited for the pain.

And it came.

Aizen grabbed a hold of his tunic, spun him around and connected his fist with the Espada's face. Ulquiorra took the hit with no sound but staggered back, only to be barraged again by punch after punch after punch, to the face, chest and stomach. Orihime could do nothing but look on in horror.

Aizen trapped the Arrancar against the wall and sunk his fist once more into his stomach before stepping back and kicking him to the temple, sending him reeling to the side and crashing into the adjacent wall.

He slid down the wall and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, already consumed by his maker's reiatsu-charged strikes. Aizen slipped his fingers under Ulquiorra's collar and lifted him with ease off the ground, holding him in the air with one hand. He placed the other hand at the Arrancar's solar plexus. The grin still evident on his face, he closed his eyes as his hand glowed red.

In that flash of red mixing with green, Orihime saw the fear in Ulquiorra's eyes…

The Cero caused a powerful red explosion into his solar plexus as he flew back into the same wall he had previously hit, this time crashing straight through into the other room and against the opposing wall.

After the dust cleared, Aizen calmly stepped through the hole in the wall and stretched an arm towards the Espada, charging yet another Cero as he walked up to him. Ulquiorra lay on the floor once more, his back lamely propped up against the ruined wall. His eyes were lowered and his head bowed in surrender.

"She almost escaped," Aizen said, the grin now replaced with a devilish fury, "You are to be punished, Ulquiorra."

Tears flew from Orihime's eyes as she squeezed them shut, pressing her palms against the sides of her head in frustrated agony.

"YAMETE!"

#####

No Ulqui-Hime interaction in this one, but there def will be in the next, promise!

Thanks to every single one of you reviewers. You guys rock!

Let me know what you think ;)


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Ulquiorra's eyelids fluttered but did not open. He was vaguely aware of warmth emanating above him, and did not need to open his eyes to see what it was.

How she intrigued him with her concern and love and faith. Her fierce allegiance for these so-called feelings made him want to feel it too… He was fascinated by humans, and each day felt more and more compelled to see this woman in action.

But he had never wished for her to see him in that state…

A haunting agony bloomed slowly, painstakingly in his chest as his mind replayed every strike and cero that was delivered to him, every smirk and grin on Aizen-sama's face … and every gasp and wince, and that final scream of Orihime as her hands flew to the sides of her head… as her fingers flew to the girlish, glinting hairpins…

#####

"YAMETE!"

The sound of shattering glass filled the air, and Aizen paused, struck with surprise. He blinked, his lips parted in silent question as the orange shards levitated in the air in front of him before dissipating into the atmosphere.

It revealed Ulquiorra's equally surprised face. Her heart swelled with pity as she surveyed the man who was so coldly authoritative in her presence, now sprawled on the floor before Aizen, blood running down his forehead into his eyes and down his nose and face, his raven hair plastered to ivory skin. She never thought she'd hate to see emotion on his face, but the vulnerability in his eyes made her want to run to him, throw herself in his arms and take his pain away…

"Impressive," Aizen said, softly, his face sombre.

Orihime stood timidly some distance away from him, one hand clenched in a nervous fist at her chest and the other still poised at her hairpin. Aizen turned to look at her, placing his hand in his pocket. Her heart leaped with fear as the signature smile graced the ex-shinigami's rigid face.

"I never believed your shield could cushion the blow. I thought it might have shattered just by my reiatsu. I suppose your rejection powers are stronger than I imagined." He began to walk towards the door, and as if on cue, a random servant Arrancar appeared. "You know what to do," Aizen muttered before abruptly leaving the room.

It was true. She had not blocked the cero, but she had stopped an otherwise fatal blow. She watched the Arrancar place the mangled body on a familiar stretcher and followed him back to her room.

#####

Ulquiorra slowly opened his eyes just as the orb disappeared from his view. She was looking down at him with a serene smile on her face, but the worry in her eyes shone like stars in a stormy grey sky. He found himself staring into them with an intrigued admiration he could not explain.

"Ulquiorra-san?"

Her soft voice at once calmed him down. He allowed himself to be swayed by the woman, too tired, too regretful and too humiliated to do otherwise. She had seen him at his very worst, and as an Espada – the Cuatra Espada – his pride was fatally wounded.

He allowed himself to feel …

He looked up at her, his expression blank, as if he had no idea what to say – though he should be reprimanding her for her attempted escape. He could not even bring himself to utter a sound in reply to her. His lips parted, but only air came out.

Orihime looked down at him; it was the first time she had taken over an hour to heal all his wounds. Vivid pictures of Ulquiorra gripped within Aizen's grasp brought frustrated tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away and laid a tender hand on his forehead.

He closed his eyes and focused only on her soft hand against his hard Hierro. That one simple touch made his head spin and set his nerves on fire. She was the only person who had ever done this to him. He never understood what the trash Sexta was talking about, wanting to touch, to feel, to have women for his own.

He had never thought that bodily contact could be so uniquely sensual.

He found himself yearning for her hand on his neck, his chest, his waist …

"Woman…" he whispered almost inaudibly. "H-hai?" she replied expectantly, refusing to move her hand from his head. She liked how it felt to touch him. "You should not have attempted to escape," he continued to whisper, but his words were clear and rigid, getting stronger. However, his reiatsu held a different feel, and she knew that what he said was important.

"This attempt," he continued, "this attempt will result in that Aizen-sama will now accelerate his plans. Your pathetic Shinigami friends will be slaughtered without the foreplay that Aizen-sama is so apt to performing. Your power, though interesting, is the only thing Aizen-sama deems profitable to himself. It will be mercilessly sucked out of you, and you will be left without life."

"… And you will be killed for allowing me to escape…" Orihime's voice was stiff, her throat tight as she looked down at the helpless Arrancar. Though a harsh and heartless jailer he was, her overwhelming maternal instinct flared with great clarity whenever he was hurt. The relentless desire to heal him would always consume her, gnaw at her insides until she was able to do so. She wondered if Aizen knew of this.

Orihime was always the damsel in distress. From as long as she could remember, Kurosaki-kun, Tatsuki-chan, Sado-kun, Ishida-kun and more recently Kuchiki-san had always been in front of her, wielding their great weapons in her honour and for her safety. Even now, she knew that Kurosaki-kun was risking his life and limb to save her life.

Tears filled her eyes, and a frustrated sob escaped her lips as she squeezed them shut, the warm droplets sliding ever so lightly from her cheeks, falling with tiny splashes on Ulquiorra's face as she leaned over him, her sore heart rending down the middle in angry agony for her own weakness and helplessness, which only seemed to cause others pain.

She cried softly, silent sobs shuddering through her body and painful thoughts of Ulquiorra-san flashing again and again through her mind because of her daring foolishness.

She was unprepared for the feeling which started on the surface but penetrated her to the very core.

Cold, hard fingers brushed weakly against her cheeks, trying to wipe her tears away. Her grey eyes flew open and met with wide green ones, staring at her with shocking intensity; however, Ulquiorra's lips were slightly parted and the usually rigid features of his face softened as he awkwardly brushed against her face with his hands, stretching up to her from where he lay.

In his lapse of mentality, Ulquiorra had allowed himself to feel … he felt in his chest an indescribable feeling of a fist clenching around his heart on the inside … did he have a heart? He was hollow, wasn't he?

So what was this pain? What was this ridiculous urge to stop her tears? Why were the teardrops on his face burning him, searing into his Hierro like no cero would? He could not begin to explain, nor did he try. He was satisfied with just wiping her tears for the time being. Explanation would come later; getting rid of her tears felt too right at this point in time.

"Ulquiorra…-san…" Orihime's whisper slipped away into the soft, gentle air, the atmosphere strangely serene in place of the generally taut tension which emanated between herself and the Arrancar. She closed her eyes, allowing the hot, shimmering drops to moisten her feather-soft eyelashes and trail down reddened cheeks.

His cold, hard skin should not have felt so irrationally sensual, so seductively gentle, so innocently alluring. It should not have made her feel a blooming warmth at the pit of her stomach, a warmth which spread languidly throughout her body. How could one cold touch spread such exciting heat?

Orihime was in love with Kurosaki Ichigo. It was Kurosaki Ichigo who made her lose her legible senses, Kurosaki Ichigo who made her awkward, nervous and childish, Kurosaki who made her feel safe and protected but also very invisible.

So how was it Ulquiorra-san who made her tremble unexpectedly, Ulquiorra who confused not her mind but her body, Ulquiorra who ignited within her hot flames with the cold stones that made up his hands, his fingers?

What did Ulquiorra-san do to her?

When the Espada's fingers embraced her chin, she did not stop him. She did not complain when he gently pulled, leading her soft lips to his own. She did not say a word as he sealed the kiss with a sigh of unbridled desire.

She collapsed against him, powerless against his flaring reiatsu which did not overpower but slowly enveloped.

His lips cold, her cheeks warm, the touch had become a kiss…

What was the kiss to become?

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